Sabatouer

A lot of times when I read the news, I get the feeling that the Tim Lafayes of the world are starting to win. Not in the specifics of their ideology- I don’t get the sense that premilitarist Christianity is on the rise- but that lots of folks are sick of this world and eager to hurry on the apocolypse, and either wipe the slate clean and start over, or start something new, or just flat not start again. It seems that there is this mad rush to destroy everything.

Then sometimes, mostly when I’m on the bus or walking or falling asleep or on the elevator or in some in between state, I think of the story of Abraham and God and Sodom and Gomohorrah, and how, for the love of Lot, Abraham begged and bargained with God to save the cities. And I find myself thinking- what if God were to ask me about this world, with its blatant brokenness- what if he asked me about saving it? Abraham bargained with righteous men. What if there was 50? What if there was 10? Would God save the city?

God said yes.

What, then, would I bargain with? How could I buy time, how could I get God to say yes?

Abraham loved righteousness, and he loved God, and that was their bond, the love of righteousness. I don’t really care all that much about righteousness, frankly. I don’t even know what it means. But I do love a lot of other things in the world.

So at those moments, I go about my day whispering to God: “What about the men who stand outside of the on the corner of 6th, singing to each other and to whoever passes by? They came from someplace perpetually warm but are in this city that is cold and drizzly ten months of the year, and they sing during the day?”

Or I say “What about that lady on the bus with the wrinkly wrinkly face, the sunken in eyes, the whisps of hair from the huge multicolored yarn knit hat? When she looks up and smiles, her eyes are so full of sparkles? Isn’t it worth it for her?”

Or I say “What about the little kid whose dad is holding him right now, and he is looking around the world, taking it all in, and his dad is oblivious to the world, just taking in the little boy?”

Or I say- what about those clouds reflected in the skyscrapers’ windows? Isn’t that a kind of worship, at it’s heart, this reflection of your work back to you? Or I say- what about that pop song that is ridiculously bad but always makes me dance when I hear it?”

Or- “What about dancing? What about the desire to dance?”

And on and on.

And basically, what I want to say, is that I think that God is listening to me. I mean, it opens me to smiting, I guess, if God is that kind of God, but I don’t think God is- so I’ll say it: I think God likes to be reminded of why the world he made is pretty amazing. I think God agrees. I think he wants us to agree. I think he wants us to act like we agree. I think he’s leaving us here to figure it out, and there isn’t much of any kind of “fresh start”- there is this, and waking up to it, and taking joy in it.

So apocalypse cravers, end of the world urgers- I’m not on your side. And I look out the window and see my neighbors solid pink siding and ridiculous cat meowing, and the apple tree full of moss and silly bits of blossoms, and I think you ought to know that so far, despite your best attempts, you are not winning.

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